Reunion
by pg394always
Summary: John and Sherlock's reunion a few months after the fall. Warning: Language/minor sexual themes [ONESHOT]


**So this is just a bit of Johnlock drabble. Enjoy it! **

John wasn't coping well at all. Sherlock's jump had ruined him. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep but most of all he couldn't believe that the man he trusted most, the man he loved, was a fraud.

"Tea, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked, popping her head through the door to 221b.

John couldn't bring himself to answer. He stared despondently at her until she hurried across the room and enveloped him in a motherly hug. He felt the tears coming which made him angry as well as distraught. He thought he'd passed the crying stage. He thought his grief was finally beginning to fade.

But who was he really kidding, he'd never stop missing that smart mouthed son of a bitch.

That beautiful, intense, smart mouthed son of a bitch with cheekbones that could cut diamonds and who could fix every problem.

A dull throbbing pain emanated from his chest. So this was what it felt like to have your heart ripped from you and stomped on by Sherlock Holmes. A bitter grin formed on John's face. When he met the man he had no idea that this was how his life would turn out.

_I wish I'd never even met you, Sherlock fucking Holmes._

Immediately as he thought it, he felt an awful guilt seep through his system. Of course he wouldn't take it back. Any of it. Sherlock had given him some of the best memories of his life. He hadn't only lost the man he loved, he'd lost his best friend, the best friend he'd ever have.

"Actually Mrs Hudson, I could really use a good cup of tea. Biscuits too, if you've got any."

"I'm your landlady dear, not your – " she gasped as she realised who the voice belonged to.

A tall, shadowy figure leaned against the door frame and although John could not see his face, he knew exactly who that figure was. That was the figure of a man who had a mop of dark curls which sometimes fell in front of his piercing cerulean eyes. That was the figure of a man who took the precaution of a good coat and a short friend.

That, was Sherlock Holmes.

"But Sherlock…" John said faintly, "I watched you…on the rooftop…you…you jumped…you hit the pavement I saw you…"

"Really John," he began impatiently, "if you'd just opened your eyes and LOOKED," his tone softened significantly, "you'd have realised that I never could have left you."

John didn't know whether to slap him or kiss him.

Mrs Hudson glanced at John and after giving Sherlock a quick hug she bustled out saying

"I'll just leave you two to catch up then. You've got a right lot of explaining to do, Sherlock!"

By that time John had finally fully regained his voice.

"You wanker. You absolute bloody WANKER."

"John, I -"

"I missed you so much. You have no idea what it's been like." John was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check and Sherlock's clinical coolness was only frustrating him further.

He opened his mouth to begin yelling again but as he looked up those gorgeous eyes locked onto his in such an intense gaze that he felt his anger beginning to melt.

It was a battle of wits, neither was going to give in first. But it was torture. He'd never wanted to be kissed so badly in his life but Sherlock loved games, so John wasn't giving in first. He closed his eyes for a second, clearing his throat in an attempt to control himself but before he could even open his eyes, he felt Sherlock's lips graze against his.

John sighed and rested his forehead against Sherlock's, his hand automatically going to the back of his neck, playing with his curls.

Sherlock leaned in and gave John the softest, sweetest kiss he'd ever experienced. Their lips were barely touching yet it ignited a fire deep within him. He supressed a groan.

"I missed you too, John." Sherlock mumbled, his voice cracking slightly.

John leaned in to kiss him again but Sherlock pulled back.

"Your pulse is racing, your pupils are dilated and your breathing rate has skyrocketed. You think I can't hear your moans but you want me to. You think I can't tell how turned on you are but again, you would be wrong. Now, correct me if _I'm_ wrong, but from all this I deduce that as much as you're enjoying this, you're ready to go straight to the bedroom."

With that he rose and swept out of the door.

John could only follow, amazed and feverish with anticipation.

**Feel free to leave feedback for me, I'd love to know what you guys think! x**


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